Outside the Shell
by ED-boi
Summary: So you're hanging on to life, and life's shrugging you off. You'll get no love from the one who has it out for you... will you?


**I don't own the Mario series, but I may own a pool of lava that Bowser doesn't use anymore. Much better than central heating...**

* * *

"Mario! Keep still, you hairy rabbit! You're no match for King Koopa this time! Bwahahahaha!" The proud boast practically stung at Mario's eyes, such was the force with which they were delivered. Unfortunately for Bowser, it didn't help to blind him from the conveniently little switch that would plunge him into the lava, nor did his awkward attempts to shuffle before the switch and obscure it. Why did he _never_ get around to firing his interior room designer? Firing, in _both_ senses of the word.

Whoever designed these drab lairs that Bowser took refuge in, Mario was glad that they made this so easy for him. Fighting Bowser, the immutable monster he was, was becoming like a routine- wake up, breakfast, brush your teeth, a bubble bath for him, a lava one for Bowser-

"Mario! Behind you!" cried the Princess.

Swirling around, he discovered a Bullet Bill cannon built into the wall behind him. Several Bullet Bills were flying out towards him, circling around one another like some deadly dance. They leapt from elegant grace to a fast plummet, knocking Mario off his feet as one crashed down within centimetres of his nose. The next was more accurate, but he swung it back at the huddle-up behind it with his hammer.

_'Drat'_, thought Bowser,_ 'this is why I shouldn't keep the Princess in the arena when I'm fighting. She's too gabby!'_

The red plumber dodged and jumped over each successive attack, until there was only two remaining. The first, he hammered back into the cannon which shattered it abruptly from the inside-out. Mario backflipped onto the final Bullet Bill, landing precariously on his two feet as it shook under his weight. He rode it like a surfboard towards his implacable foe, only for Bowser to swipe it away with a casual flick of the wrist. It was now speeding towards the Princess.

Mario wore a calm, collected expression, the sort that drivers normally put on when they know they're about to crash and hurt someone but would like to believe that the steering wheel hadn't just fallen off into their laps. He tugged at the Bullet Bill like one might a horse, and this horse wasn't listening.

He could see now every drop of anxious sweat travelling down Peach's comely skin. So close he could feel it. Or maybe he was just panicking too.

He had heard of the saying that time went slow in a moment, but clearly the people that said it never did so while riding a giant deranged bullet, because_ this bugger was fast_! There wasn't even time to wonder if Bowser was throwing death stares at him right now or if he was just as concerned, or even more so, about whether there would be a collision or not. It was down to Mario, and him alone.

And still nothing was changing his course, not even smacking the hammer into it. What was this, some kind of Super Bullet Bill or something? _A suicidal Bullet with the social skills of a brick wall?!_ He'd given up all hope of saving the Princess, he simply couldn't move the Bullet-

-but he _could_ move the cage! Without a second's hesitation, he stooped down to the sounds of his tired bones crunching inside him, and vaulted across to Peach's jail. It shivered with his added weight, but he gripped onto the chain that held it. If he turned his gaze below, he would probably have seen the look of gratitude on Peach's face: the '_oh, my hero!_' look, as he and his other adventurous associates agreed to name it. He suspected he could detect a hint of that face reflected in the unpolished steel of his hammer, but he was busy. He lengthened the arm holding it to his side like one may with a baseball bat, and swung. The cage shook wildly from side to side with the hit, forcing Mario to hug the chain to stay on. The Princess gasped, a tremor of fear dashed with a bit of faith, but that was alright. Because, if he was lucky-

The Bullet Bill flew right through where the cage had been, passing by where it was now spinning from the chain. It still refused to change direction, and so was resigned to exploding into a bronze statue of the Koopa King. No more Bullet Bills. Mario sighed. He was lucky. _They_ were lucky. Lucky, and safe.

And then the chain broke.

He, the Princess and her metallic pen, all were descending towards the lava like a Thwomp towards its prey. Except here, they were the prey, the lava their killer. Peach wasn't so much gasping anymore, rather, fastened in a permanent scream drowning out all else in the round chamber. It whittled away Mario's concentration on the immediate issues, but not enough for him to react. One gloved hand clasped itself around the steel rope that had remained fixed to the cage, but the left hand wasn't so successful. It reached to grab a nearby cable that so far seemed only to serve as background decoration, but he did not anticipate the pull of gravity for the cage would be so massive. His hand slipped away in the air, getting further and further from its salvation. Mario made one more desperate move, and this time, he managed to clutch onto the rough platform where he had just been fighting. The glove was ripped and painted blood-red by this point, but that was the least of his worries.

"MARIO!" He squinted at Peach, who was a few feet away from him, and even fewer away from the lava. "Are you alright?"

He looked back at his burning digits that he kept latched onto the platform, then shook his head.

"_Hey_, you know what I mean!" She frowned, but quickly it became a tired smile. It was as if she was going to-

"_MARIO_!" Just what Peach had said, but much more aggressive, _rapacious_… Then he remembered that he and Peach weren't the only ones there.

Bowser was stomping in frustration, steam blowing up from his eyes. "Grrrr! Mario, you doltish… _dolt_! Didn't you learn anything from our fight before Exor arrived? _Don't you ever learn?!_" Mario stared pointedly at the switch Bowser was still trying to cover up behind his shell. "Err, not that I'm judging or anything!"

"Don't worry about me, Mario." The voice was so low, so soft, that he could almost believe he was imagining it. But it was a voice; Peach's voice, to be precise. "You can't lift me out of here, you know you can't! Just go, let me go. Please, don't be sad about this. It'll be quick, I know..."

_"What!"_ Bowser shrieked. "Mario, you _better_ worry your ass off about her! Get her up this instant! If you fall with her into the lava, then _I'll_… _I'll_…" He paused. "Huh. Hold on a moment, I'm not sure I've thought this through…"

Mario was so glad he said that. He sure could hold on a moment. In fact, he _already was._ Ignoring him, the Italian plumber faced his friend once again, still waiting patiently to be lifted out by her angel or fall away into hell.

"Please, Mario. Just... save yourself..." She coughed, a slight one becoming a chorus, and fainted.

Mario's eyelids shut with the pain; the pain of sacrificing his fragile hands for a short-lived existence, the malady of hopelessness. He couldn't bear to see the world that he was letting down, nor the Princess which soon he would let down. Except, for her, it would be irrevocable. Then it dawned on him that none of this was true. He was actually detached from the agony, he couldn't even concentrate on the Princess. Not on anything, except the one grave thought that, he dreaded, would sum up his leave.

He was ready to faint too.

He would have endeavoured all his life to preserve a day for his Princess, he knew he would. If World 8 was never the final world, if he had to run from World 1 to World 1,000,000 yet barely see a horizon, and if his home was light years away from even an uncomplicated visit, that would be no loss. To doom Peach to a terrible fate, to be the one that didn't try hard enough, that was the only loss.

And he lost. He failed.

He fainted.

* * *

He stirred. This was... _odd._ Provided his memory wasn't pulling tricks on him, he- and Peach- had just dived into the swimming pool where only death could bathe; at least, they must have done. In that case, his senses should be overwhelmed with nostalgia of the dreary Underwhere: colours of despair, chatter of the souls, odor like... underwear. Certainly, everything seemed, sounded, smelt and felt (he wasn't too interested in licking the floor to verify) familiar, but not aftergame-familiar. _Where was this?_

_"...zzz... Shut up, Daisy... They're not that small... zzz..."_

He pulled himself up to sit, noticing as he did the texture of the grass- _grass? Yes, it had to be_- underneath him. Sleeping soundly before him, the Princess's tranquil head bobbed up and down on her soft pink dress. And behind her, as immaculate as ever- well, aside from whenever Bowser attacks it on Sundays- stood her Castle, in her Kingdom, in her world.

So they didn't die! But how, _why_? And how did they get back from Dark Land?

His moustache felt itchy for some reason, so he scratched it. But it felt smoother, thinner, than usual. It felt like... Had he been shaved? Mario bristled with abhorrence: if there was any vice more reprehensible than kidnapping a Princess, it was shaving a sleeping Italian. _The nerve!_

When his moustache blew off his lip, he very nearly convoluted an evil scheme apocalyptic enough to make even a Big Bertha want to flee, but then it struck him- _literally_, in his eyes- that this was just a note that some prankster had pasted underneath his nose. Mario put it out before him, recognising the shoddy chirography from the first word on.

'_Mario,_

_You snore like a Whomp when you're asleep (trust me, when they snore, it's LOUD). I was very, VERY tempted to punch your lights out for good, there and then, but you deserve to be awake for every, agonising second when I finally get my hands on you. Fair's fair, and what can I say, I need some challenge! Just you wait until next time. Until then, keep that D-pad smokin'! Gwa ha haaaaaaa!"_

_-Bowser._

_P.S. - Don't you dare go all soppy-eyes and say "Oh, wasn't that so kind of Bowser! Lifting us out and back home, that handsome escort! He really does have a heart!" I know where you live. I have an evil reputation to uphold, remember?'_

_P.P.S. - What is a D-pad anyway? I don't know, it just sounded kinda quirky...'_

A breeze stirred Peach's pink dress: strong, but only just enough to let Bowser's note glide away. The red plumber watched it as it travelled with the birds overhead, watching till he could discriminate between the two no more. Maybe the words would be lost to all eyes in time, burning up under the Sun's gaze or sinking below its knowledge. Words dying quicker than the germs underneath his feet.

But not the meaning. Never the meaning.

_'I have an evil reputation to uphold, remember?'_

Evil. _Did he truly understand it?_ Mario wondered. 'Evil' was just the absence of good, what we label the gap that everyone has and everyone can fill. Evil was the tendency for pain and cruelty in the choice to be moral, but never the certainty. Evil could change. Evil needn't be chaos, not in full. Evil could be that which annihilates a century and spares a minute. Evil could be the force which thwarts a kingdom, the same one to save the mortal foe.

Mario smiled to himself as he borne the Princess to the Castle. Yes, Bowser was evil. So _terribly_ evil.

And sometimes, he just needed to remember it. It was always a pleasant surprise when he did.

* * *

**Okay, by this point I'm very, VERY anxious. I know exactly what I'm saying at the end here, and I'm hoping it's sorta vague but hopefully not too much? If you don't get it, I wouldn't want to state it outright, but it's something to do with redemption and potentials, compared to an unthinking, uncaring oblivion... Is a robot evil if it's programmed to kill? Is Bowser a robot? (Don't say yes...)**

**If this still makes no sense, give me your address, I'll mail the cookies :p**


End file.
